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daughter. Her body smelled of orchids and was smothered in oil, and I tried not to feel uncomfortable in the heat
radiating from it as I leaned down to kiss her cheek.
    ‘What
have
you got on?’ she said. ‘Matty, go and find Iris something decent – she’ll swelter like that.’
    ‘Oh, I’m fine,’ I said. ‘I only burn anyway.’
    ‘No. Off you go. I can’t bear looking at you!’
    I thought of Trick waiting in the field, and how it would only take ten minutes to get there if I ran, but I followed Matty up to her bedroom. It was like a wasp spilling pheromones to an ant;
as soon as I was anywhere near her I lost all initiative.
    ‘Sorry,’ Matty said, as she rifled through drawer after drawer. ‘She just worries about you.’
    ‘I’m fine.’
    Matty passed me a pair of sunset-covered Bermuda shorts. They slouched on my hips, ending below my knees.
    ‘My uncle brought them back from Florida,’ she told me. ‘They look good.’
    I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘I look like a beach towel.’
    She laughed. ‘Everything else still has the tags in.’
    In the last few months Matty had shot up six inches – an average willy size, as Donna liked to say – so Donna had bought her a whole new wardrobe.
    ‘Take those home with you,’ Matty said.
    ‘What?
You
don’t want them?’
    Back in the garden, Donna lay on her sunbed doing a crossword. She put her pen down, and frowned at my shorts.
    ‘You are a measly host, Mats,’ she said, laughing. ‘At least let Iris have your lounger.’
    Matty shifted to the grass between us. The floral padding was damp from her sweat.
    ‘So . . .’ Donna prompted, her brown eyes full of mischief.
    Up close, her liquid eyeliner was wonky. Black crumbs were scattered in the creases under her eyes. I lay back, remembering what Mum had said about not having to answer people’s
questions.
    Noises came from the gardens that surrounded us: a lawnmower, a metal bin lid crashing shut, cutlery scraping a plate. A bunch of kids somewhere shrieked.
    Trick would be in the cornfields now, or swimming in the lake. He’d have given up waiting for me. I imagined introducing him to Matty, bumping into her as the two of us wandered through
the village, chatting away like we had since we first met. Trick would be friendly but detached, perking up whenever he spoke to me . . .
    Matty prodded one of my sunsets. ‘
Iris
. Donna’s talking to you.’
    ‘I said, how are
things
?’ Donna repeated. ‘Dad all right?’
    ‘Yeah, he’s fine, thanks.’
    ‘Still drinking at The Stag?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘And he’s all right, is he?’
    ‘Yeah, fine. Thanks.’
    ‘And he’s got enough work on?’
    ‘Yeah, he’s got a big job on at the minute. A load of dying elms, somewhere out by the Peaks.’
    ‘Oh wonderful!’ she said. ‘One less thing to worry about. And how about your bro?’
    She watched me over her glass as she sipped.
    ‘I love his hair long,’ Matty gushed. ‘D’you think he’ll keep growing it?’
    I took a swig of ginger beer and shrugged.
    ‘Saw him a few nights ago. With that awful big lad, he was,’ Donna said. ‘That one whose mum’s in the madhouse. You know. The one with the daft name.’
    She squinted, trying to remember, and I thought
Punky, Punky, Punky
. She gave up.
    ‘Sam’s not in with him, is he?’ Donna said.
    I shook my head so they’d both stop examining me.
    ‘Bad lad, that one. Does your dad know?’
    I nodded automatically. I hated the way Donna acted like my dad was the only parent in the world who didn’t know everything his kids got up to. As soon as Matty got a boyfriend she planned
to have sex with him so she could be the first girl in our form to do it. Did Donna know about that?
    She got up and refilled our glasses, and she obviously couldn’t read minds because she said, ‘Mats’s got a new boyfriend, haven’t you, doll?’
    Matty sat up, enthusiastic suddenly. ‘Oh Iris! It’s that boy from the pet shop. I told him I loved